Silent Night
by Sherry
Summary: A strange beginning fic about the Dream Team as undercover agents - Hermione and Ron discover a problem with their colleague's identity.
1. mad snow

Silent Night - Part I

- Sherry

A/N : This is just about the strangest thing I've ever written if you ask me. Come on, tell me what you thought... it's late-night and I've been listening to guess what?

Dedication : Er, well, Angela and Jeffrey, here's to you!

Explanation : They're *supposed* to be undercover agents against the Death Eaters and such.

Disclaimer : All these belong to Miss Joanne Kathleen Rowling, God bless her. (Ha ha!) Well, except for Muldoon, who just walked in to say hi... I kidnapped him, you see, so now he belongs to me... Any buyers?

Hermione Granger let herself into her office, shivering. It was close to zero degrees outside, or maybe less - her breath was freezing and clearly visible in the air. There was a mug of steaming cocoa on the faded mahogany table - she gulped it down gratefully. Whoever put it there must be close by.

Sure enough, her colleague Ron Weasley came sauntering in, his red hair in disarray. He held files in his hands, an empty mug dangling from one finger. Hermione relieved him of the mug, setting it in the tray with hers, and sat down at the desk as he took his familiar seat by the shuttered window. 'Where've you been?' he commented. 'Made you a drink. Here, these are yours.'

'Yeah, thanks,' Hermione replied gratefully, leafing through the reports. 'Traffic jam. The west road's snowed in. What's this, Ron?' She indicated the report on the very top of the file. 'Draco Malfoy? Since when was _he_ included in my - er, missions?' Ron suppressed a snort at her description of her job, putting his feet up on her previous work, oblivious to her yelps of protest.

'He's a wanted man, Hermione,' Ron said with a hint of surprise in his voice, crossing his ankles. Hermione shoved his feet off her papers and right off the table so that they landed in the waste-basket placed so neatly by the side of the desk. 'My _shoes_!' he wailed, pretending to be devastated. 'And they were my new pair!'

'Serves you right for shoving them on my nicely-arranged papers,' Hermione snorted, grinning, as Ron lifted his feet out of the waste-basket. 'Any news of Harry, by the way?'

'I'm coming to that,' Ron grumbled as he settled down. 'As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted -'

'Shut up!'

'- As I was saying,' Ron continued, his grin matching Hermione's, 'Malfoy's a wanted man. He's joined them - I always knew he would. Harry's working on getting his father _and_ him, and you're included.' His grin widened. 'You _and_ me, that is. I've waited for this for years!'

'Waited for what? Working with me?' Hermione teased, feeling her cheeks go slightly red.

'Ha!' retorted the red-haired boy, also flushing a little. 'I've wanted to catch him for years, Hermione, wanted to get revenge.' Hermione felt her heart beat faster at the intensity in his voice. 'I've had word from Harry, yes, he's in Little Whinging with Muldoon. Draco must have about twenty different disguises. They nearly caught him under the alias Simon Juniper, but the little git managed to get away.' He laughed at Hermione's face. 'Yes, I know it's a stupid name. Bet Goyle came up with it...'

'Harry's with Muldoon?' Hermione said. 'But...' Her voice trailed off. 'But I saw him yesterday, I had - I had lunch with him in the Three Broomsticks.'

'...Oh,' Ron said, frowning a little. 'You had lunch with Muldoon? I mean - that's not the point, er, you can't have, because he's with Harry in Little Whinging. Has been, in fact, since last week. Are you sure it was Muldoon and not - someone else?'

'Of course it was Muldoon, Ron, who else would have known me?' said Hermione irritably. 'Something's wrong. Perhaps you'd better owl Harry and ask him. I _know_ Muldoon. He might not talk a lot, but no one else talks just like he does.' Muldoon was another of their colleagues, a dark-haired young undercover worker who was close-mouthed and swathed in mystery. No one knew his real name or where he came from. Hermione found him vaguely intriguing, certainly more so than Ron, who was always so straightforward, unable to hide _anything_ from her. This last she usually turned to her advantage.

'Yes,' Ron agreed. 'Remember the day he embarrassed us in the square?' Hermione nodded fervently - Muldoon's innocent silence and a few careless words had gotten them all into trouble. 'Yes, I'll owl Harry. Do you know where he is now?'

'Apartment?' Hermione suggested. 'He told me he was going home.' She mimicked Muldoon's light voice. '"Going home" was all he said. Then "Good luck".' Ron snickered, reaching for the telephone, punching in the numbers. Hermione watched the restless movement of his long legs, her fingers twisting together in her lap. 'Still, he talked a lot more than usual today.'

Ron listened, but there was no reply. The beeping click told him that there was no one home; hanging up, he turned back to his friend. 'Not home,' he said. 'What are we going to do?'

'Owl Harry now,' Hermione insisted, pushing a piece of parchment and a quill towards him. 'Now.'

'All right, Mother,' Ron said, grinning at her. He leant towards her desk and began to write, dipping the quill in an ink bottle.

'Ron, that's _green_ ink...'

'Oops, never mind.' He scribbled rapidly, tongue between his teeth, a smear of green on the back of one of his rather large hands, an oddly familiar yet infinitely amusing figure. Hermione sighed and went back to looking over her reports. She and Ron had helped in the capture of Nott, a Death Eater, and the League had promoted them both. Draco Malfoy, her report said, neatly typed by the latest Muggle technology. Currently suspected of working with the Dark Lord as a Death Eater with Lucius Malfoy - refer to -

Sighing again, she drained the mug of cocoa. This was going to take a long while.

'Could you run that by me again - about Malfoy?' Harry said impatiently. Muldoon's roundabout, concise way of talking made him feel as though he was trying to solve a puzzling riddle.

'Alias unknown, he's bad to the bone,' Muldoon said boredly.

'Come on, Muldoon - please?'

'Perhaps staking out Hogwarts,' said Muldoon. 'Most probably disguised. He's not what he seems; wanted for treachery and working with the Dark One.' His longish dark hair was dishevelled, reminding Harry of Ron. Long white fingers tapped the dashboard; Harry's smaller, narrower hands gripped the steering wheel in annoyance. Muldoon had never seemed this irritating to him before. They drove slowly through Little Whinging, Muldoon staring out of the window.

'We nearly had him,' Harry said thoughtfully after a pause. 'Nearly. But that idiot Goyle interfered; _he_ isn't involved in this, but he's stupid anyway - and now he's somewhere else, under a different name. He could be anyone.' He pushed the horn delicately, reminding a careless driver to *_move*_; and glanced at Muldoon. His grey eyes were blank, a brooding darkness enshrouding him. Harry wondered again where the man got it from.

'I suspect the ones of the Dark are massed,' Muldoon said painfully - it always seemed to pain him to speak too freely. 'He is moving alone to join them.'

'That may be,' said Harry grimly, 'but we're going to find him no matter what the bloody hell he's doing.'

Muldoon nodded, and they drove along.

Back at the little house they shared in Little Whinging the pair of them shared a quiet dinner, the cold winter wind getting in at the chinks in the door. Muldoon ate very slowly; Harry ate much faster, finishing with a gulp and pausing as he drank a glass of warm water to ponder over Malfoy's situation. The entire tangled mess seemed suspicious to Harry - Draco Malfoy, embarking on his own, for the Dark Lord? Perhaps he had just enough backbone to attempt it, but Harry would've thought he was far too concerned with his own welfare to care about Voldemort's lone assassination missions.

He hoped Ron and Hermione were doing OK back at the base... he really hoped so. He smiled at the thought of his two best friends. The last time he had been with them Hermione and Muldoon had seemed a little taken with each other, and Ron had seemed a little jealous... There was nothing like his two friends to make him smile.

As he was thinking this, an owl tapped on the window; Harry let it in hurriedly - it was one of the League owls, and it carried a letter... for him. He thanked it and let it in to drink a little water, then returned to the table, slitting the envelope open. Ron's scrawl, this time in green ink, confronted him. Probably something on the case, he thought. As he read past the usual formalities, his brow furrowed in a frown. _What was Ron talking about_?

Muldoon looked up at him, a hint of amusement on his face. 'Bad news?'

'No,' Harry said slowly, looking at him, his eyes roaming over his colleague's face. 'Nothing at all.'

A/N : Short and rather silly, I know - but please review anyway...


	2. get lost

Silent Night - Part II

- Sherry

A/N : Second part, I hope you guys are liking it... If you are, please review... If you aren't, review anyway... Thank you so much, all those who reviewed before. BTW, Alexa, I love your stories. I've reviewed them - under a different name.

Explanation : Eh-heh... I was listening to Taylor Hanson sing 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree' and couldn't stop singing it after that... ::ducks LawyerFlirt:: OK! OK!

Dedication : To butterfly_8 for reviewing... thanx, Fernleaf! (inside joke, don't ask)

Disclaimer : Muldoon still belongs to me. But Twist can buy him if she really wants him... The rest are all hers. Oh, and that clock belongs to me.

'_Wake up_, Ron!' Hermione snapped for the umpteenth time as Ron's head fell gently forward onto his papers. 'The sooner we finish this the better!'

The red-haired boy blinked, rubbing his eyes. 'But I'm _hungry_,' he said. 'And it's nearly ten. You'd think, being sent out on 'missions' and all, we'd escape a little paperwork.'

'That's what comes with the office,' Hermione said, gesturing around. 'And sharing it with yours truly. I'm sorry, but such is your lot. Let's go over it again. Ron, what are _you_ supposed to be doing?'

'Looking for trails and informing Harry and helping you,' Ron said with a groan. 'No info as yet, 'Mione, and all I know is that last night I had a proper dinner.' He closed his eyes and smiled. 'It was cold chicken and...'

'Oh Ron, I don't want to hear about your dinner, it's making me hungry. Come on. I'm supposed to help _you_, this doesn't make sense!' She pushed her hair out of her eyes and stared down at her files with uncomprehending eyes. 'We might as well give up trying to do this. Makes you wonder why we ever got promoted. What _did _Malfoy do anyway? Let's see... he's suspected of being a Death Eater, he disrupted...'

Ron threw his hands in the air, scattering papers everywhere. 'I don't care, I'm eating. You want some sandwiches?'

'_What_?'

'I brought sandwiches. S-A-N-D-W-I-C-H-E-S. You don't need to yell as though I said I had become a Death Eater or something.' Ron produced two cheese-and-tomato sandwiches from his bag and waved them at Hermione. 'See? Two perfectly harmless sandwiches. You can send them to the Bomb Department if you like, you won't find anything.'

'Oh, shut up,' said Hermione, grinning. 'Yes, I'll have one. What's in them?'

'Cheese and tomato.'

'Oh, I _hate_ cheese-and-tomato!' she moaned, but took one anyway. Ron took an enormous bite out of his sandwich and she rolled her eyes at him.

'What?' he asked with genuine innocence in his voice.

Hermione took a bite out of her sandwich and sighed. The tomato's rather sour taste hit her like a blow. She chewed slowly and swallowed. 'I miss Harry, don't you?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, leaning back against the window ruefully. 'I hope he's having a good time chasing fruitlessly after that git Malfoy... What are you doing, Hermione?'

Hermione covered her mouth and swallowed quickly. 'Nothing.'

'... and there isn't any trail at all. You know something, Hermione?' Ron said with a grin, switching topics abruptly.

'Yeah?'

'I love the way you eat!'

Hermione pelted him with the rest of her sandwich.

Alone in a sleek blue car, a dark-haired young man with grey eyes gripped the steering wheel. No one knew his name or where he came from, and he liked it that way. He gave a small grin, smoothing back his hair. The scenery whizzed by - grass and trees and small houses. Once he had been _this _close to torching them.

He was helping _them _now, they who he had sworn never to come near again.

If they only knew who he really was.

He turned on the radio just for the heck of it, and his smile died a little as he wondered whether what he was doing was really right. It was what he called _treachery_, and he didn't like treachery.

Still, he'd promised himself he could do everything he could to help them - and the Azkaban sentence hanging over his head didn't really help matters. It didn't really matter. This made him feel better about himself - and he could be closer to _her_. Being around the other boys didn't suit him at all - they were so crass. Idiots sometimes, especially the redhead. He rather liked the way of talking this disguise required. He didn't have to throw words around like he usually did to be polite, like he usually _had_. This whole thing was giving him a buzz.

He even liked the name.

Muldoon.

'New coat,' Muldoon announced from the doorway. 'Food. Unpack.'

Harry groaned and opened one eye. 'Muldoon, I was _just_ dozing off. I'm really tired.'

Muldoon said nothing, but went over to the cupboard and began to arrange their belongings. Harry shut his eyes again and tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. He groaned, rolling over like a small child, and sunk into the pillows. Muldoon smiled like a parent indulging a child and went out of the room.

Harry went over the plan in his mind, thinking of the tiny lead they had of a trail of Dark Magic residue leading right into Ottery St. Catchpole. Such a strange place... near the Burrow, too. The League had owled him to inform him of this and request - no, order him to investigate straight away. Harry sometimes hated the pressure of working for the League, but overall it was very satisfying.

They would start tomorrow, he supposed. Better to get a good night's sleep. Muldoon - he was still suspicious, but the man seemed trustworthy... Harry turned over yet again and shook his head. It was no use worrying.

The obnoxious _tick... tick-tick-tick_ of the clock beside him suddenly began to irritate him. Muldoon had put it there to wake him if he ever overslept, Harry supposed. He snorted - that clock would be late for Judgment Day. Its second hand didn't even work properly. The little digital alarm strip didn't go very well with the shiny numbers. It was decrepit and its shiny black paint was not as shiny any more. He wondered idly why the glow-in-the-dark numbers were still so bright.

He lay there for a full minute listening to the annoying irregular tick of the clock and glaring at the little light on it that illuminated the words _Alarm : 7.00 a.m._. Then on an impulse he snatched it up and threw it out of the window.

'Hermione, look.' Ron held out the parchment that showed a map, a silver trail moving on it. 'There's Dark Magic at work in Knockturn Alley. Strong Dark Magic. It might be Malfoy.'

Hermione bent over the map, her brow creased. 'Yes,' she said finally. 'We can Apparate there - right now.'

Ron gulped. 'Right _now_?'

'When, then, smart boy? Next century, when we're all dead?'

Seconds later two shadowy figures hurried down Knockturn Alley. Hermione shivered - it was cold and very dark. Ron's hand barely touched her elbow - she was glad of a little support. Their footsteps were noiseless. Hermione had always hated Knockturn Alley.

'Over there!' Ron's voice sounded hollow. They hurried towards the sound of footsteps in the gleaming darkness. Hermione felt Ron stumble beside her and nearly fell over herself. There were _things_ lying around in the middle of the road, discarded objects and maybe even... _people_. Hermione shuddered. A witch leered at them, shoving a tray of mossy potion bottles in their faces. Ron shook his head.

'There it is!' A glimmer of light, perhaps the Lumos charm. They headed towards it slowly.. cautiously... Hermione's hand gripped her wand. Ron took her hand and they advanced...

*WHAM*

Hermione looked around in panic. What had happened?

Ron was gone.

A/N : Even stupider than the last post. I'm very sorry. Review anyway... please? :) I have a feeling this part is crappy. If you liked it, however, please review - it makes me write faster.


	3. who are YOU?

The Haunting III

A/N : The next part, it's a little shorter because I really had to hurry. I hope you enjoy this... people who reviewed, thanks at the bottom! Oh, and Person, the details will be explained later in the story, but the eye colour change is intentional, trust me. It has to do with moods.

Disclaimer: Same as before.

As soon as Harry woke up he realised the importance of sleeping in a comfortable bed o' nights – he felt wonderfully relaxed, warm, comfortable. He peered down at Draco, who was still curled up in his sleep, fair hair shining on the pillow. 

There was a creak just outside the door, then a tentative knock, and Draco's eyes opened. He looked up, seeing Harry grinning down at him from the bed, and groaned. The door opened and a skinny little figure stood illuminated in the sudden light, wearing a long white robe and a toothy grin. It was little Raman, his eyes wide. The toothy grin slowly disappeared and a look of apprehension took its place. 

'C'mere,' said Draco with a disarming smile, and Raman sat down on the edge of the rug. 'Come to give us a wake-up call?' Harry snickered, wishing he had a camera. _Malfoy getting in touch with his inner child_, thought Harry. _I can just see it now_… It appeared that Raman didn't talk much, because he just stared at Draco with large lavender eyes as Draco talked to him. 

'I see Raman has found you already,' said a voice at the doorway, and they looked up to see Sharona standing there with a tray. 'I have brought your breakfast. Later Moql will visit us. She wishes to show you something.' Raman bounced up to take the tray from her and set it down in front of them; there were three plates, each with a generous helping of a salad-type food. 'The little one is friendly,' Sharona went on, smiling. Raman gave her a toothy grin and picked up a two-pronged fork. 'Come outside when you are ready,' Sharona said, and left them, closing the door quietly. 

Harry's heart gave a bound. He remembered what Sharona had said before he had drifted off to sleep – '_Remus Lupin_'. The same Remus Lupin who was his father's friend? Professor Lupin, the best Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher they'd had in a long while? He shoved a forkful into his mouth distractedly, not listening as Draco finally managed to get Raman to say something shyly through a mouthful of salad. 

'This is good, Harry, why aren't you eating?' Draco began, then asked curiously, 'What's wrong?' 

Harry told him in low tones what Sharona had told him the other night. 

'Oh,' said Draco dubiously. He had _hated_ Professor Lupin – he was a werewolf, Professor Snape had said so! And everyone knew werewolves couldn't be trusted… 

If the village depended on Remus J. Lupin so much… 

Draco ate just as distractedly as Harry as Raman, finding his tongue at last, began to speak of flowers and the new moon. 

Moql met them outside the house, dressed in her usual rough garments, fair hair newly combed. She seemed slightly hysterical, a mixture of excitement and worry and – could it be fear? She hugged Raman as usual, who was following Draco around shyly. Harry, of course, found this hilarious. 

''Morning, Moql,' said Harry, and she smiled back at him, turning distractedly to look for Raman. He was talking shyly but eloquently to Draco. She stared – Harry laughed. 'Yes, he's become quite attached to Draco recently.' 

'That's surprising,' Moql said. 'Ever since he… came here, he's hardly said a word to anyone.' 

'Yeah, Draco, you've got a real gift with children,' Harry said loudly, and Draco glared at him. 

'I'll be taking you to meet someone very important,' said Moql, taking their hands and leading them towards the children's clearing. Instead of the usual ten or so children playing in one group, a few villagers were assembled there, Reuben included. They were talking animatedly, and Harry noticed that most of them had dark hair and shadowed eyes like Reuben. Moql and Raman stood out with their light hair like beacons. 

'D'you think it's really Professor Lupin?' Draco asked Harry, who was biting his nails. 

'Hope so,' said Harry, and Moql stared at them. 

'Do you know him?' 

'Yeah,' said Harry, resuming his nervous activity. 

They moved up to Reuben, who muttered greetings; he too seemed preoccupied. Draco had by now begun a game of Twenty Questions with Raman, who was beaming silently; he seemed to be the one who was asking the questions. 

There was a dot appearing above the trees now, a dot that was getting steadily larger. Reuben's eyes were fixed on it. Harry's hands dropped to his sides; Draco lifted Raman, who was surprisingly light, so that he could see the dot. As it neared them Harry could see that it was a figure on a broomstick. It drew closer – closer still – and alighted on the grass in the clearing. 

Harry let out an audible gasp – there was no mistaking that light brown hair, the clear blue eyes, the cheerful though worn face. It was their own dear Professor Lupin, his father's best friend, older and thinner than they had last seen him, but _alive_. The villagers who were assembled there crowded round him, wringing his hand, and even Reuben looked pleased to see him – which, Harry thought, must be a first. 

'That's him!' said Moql, hurrying along with the rest; Harry and Draco stood a little way apart, watching as Lupin smiled. _He looks tired,_ Harry thought. Lupin was talking cheerfully to Reuben, but the lines on his face were more clearly visible than usual. 

'…hello, Moql, my dear,' they heard him say, shaking her hand. 

'…I've brought someone to see you, sir…' 

Moql came over to them, tugging Lupin by the hand. '…sought shelter in our village,' she said. 'Reuben wanted me to bring them to you…' Lupin looked at them blankly for a moment, looking at the dark and the fair, at the little boy at Draco's side, and then at Harry's scar. He dropped the small suitcase he was holding. 

'Harry?' he said tentatively. 

Harry felt relief and joy flowing over him like a wave. 'It's me, Professor,' he said. Moments later, Professor Lupin had crossed the gap between them and was wringing Harry's hand. 

'I thought you were dead!' he exclaimed. 'Where have you _been _all these years, Harry? It's so good to see you…' Harry found himself enveloped in a bear hug, and gladly hugged back. When he let go Harry was surprised to see what looked suspiciously like a tear in his professor's eye. 'I still can't believe you're alive and well… Where has he been staying?' he said to Moql. 

'Sharona agreed to keep them in her house, sir,' said Moql. 

'Good decision on Reuben's part,' said Lupin. 'Safest place he could be…' Then he turned and seemed to see Draco for the first time. The pale-haired boy had been hovering on the edge of the conversation slightly resentfully, and Raman had clammed up again and was staring at Lupin. 'It can't be… Draco Malfoy?' 

'Yes, I'm glad you finally noticed, Professor,' said Draco in his most carefully antagonistic voice. He did not trust this man. 'I've been living with Harry for quite a while.' 

'You've not been –?' Professor Lupin demanded sharply, turning to look at Harry. 

'_No_, Professor!' Harry cast a disgusted glance at Draco. 'We were living in the forest. As friends.' 

Lupin's face grew stern, and the way he looked at Harry made the dark-haired boy feel uncomfortable. 'What were you doing in the Black Woods, Harry?' 

'I fled and – lost my memory, sir,' explained Harry rather uncomfortably. 'Draco's father wiped his memory, and he found me, and we ended up living in the forest together not knowing who we were.' 

'How did you find out who you were, then?' Lupin said, still giving Harry that stern look. 'You shouldn't have been living _here_ – it's full of Wraiths.' Harry looked at Draco, and Draco remembered that he still had no idea how Draco had known he was Harry Potter. He had to tell Lupin the whole story, somehow feeling as uncomfortable as Harry looked, but managing to look as cool and unruffled as usual. Raman was listening wide-eyed, his irises amber. 

'I see,' said Lupin, but he still looked slightly disturbed. 'Well, I must go to unpack – do you want to come?' 

'Sure,' said Harry eagerly. Draco, standing next to Raman, was silent. 'You, Draco?' 

'OK,' said Draco dubiously. 

They waved goodbye to Moql, who was smiling widely next to a less-grumpy Reuben, leaving little Raman with her, and followed Lupin past the clearing to one of the houses next to Reuben's. It was one of the larger houses, the wood slightly smoother. Harry guessed that Lupin played a very important part in the community, as did Sharona. 

'Come in,' said Lupin, letting them go past him first. They stepped into the house, looking around uncertainly, and saw a tall silver mirror and various items on tall wooden shelves. Harry thought he saw a crucifix but couldn't be sure. 

'Well, I _was_ a Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Draco,' said Lupin amusedly, as the pale boy recoiled from a strange wooden talisman with six corners and a strange face engraved on it. 'Come upstairs.' The boys climbed the roughly-cut staircase onto the second floor, which was one-roomed, with a bed and yet more shelves arranged neatly at the sides. The floor was bare, but there was a circular rug in the very centre that made Harry suspect Lupin performed spells there. 'A little simple,' Lupin apologised, 'but I don't need much.' He began to open the suitcase. 'Make yourselves at home.' 

The boys sat on the floor and watched him unpack. He drew out a string of strange wooden talismans like the six-cornered one Draco had found disturbing, and then a few clothes and a brown-paper package. 'I've been looking at Voldemort's progress,' said Lupin. 'He's gathering followers very fast… and I'm surprised you haven't been killed in those woods, Harry. You're a very lucky boy.' As Harry nodded, Draco watched Lupin put the head of a cat modelled in porcelain onto a shelf. 

'How long have _you_ been living here, Professor Lupin?' 

'Harry, there's no need to call me Professor.' 

'I – I think I'd be more comfortable, sir,' said Harry awkwardly. 'I'm so used to it.' 

'All right, then… I've been living here for quite a while, and I've got to know all of the villagers very closely.' He sighed. 'It's more peaceful here than out in the real world, and they accept you more readily.' 

'Strange,' muttered Draco. 'When we first saw Reuben, he looked like he was going to eat us.' 

Lupin, having finished unpacking, turned around swiftly, knocking his hand into the bedpost. 'What did you say?' 

'Reuben wasn't very friendly.' 

'Oh.' Lupin seemed to relax a little. 'Yes, he is rather antagonistic, not unlike _some_ people I know.' He grinned at Draco, who grinned tentatively back. 'We're having a dinner later, are you coming?' 

'Yeah… sure.' 

The boys stood in their room at Sharona's house later, nervously adjusting the clothes they had been given. Draco, much to his disgust, wore a black robe that resembled Raman's, and Harry wouldn't stop teasing him about it; Harry was dressed in Lupin's spare jeans and shirt. 

'The dinner is in honour of Lupin,' said Harry, trying unsuccessfully to flatten his hair. 'He must be really, _really_ important to all of them…' 

'I wonder why,' said Draco, half sarcastically, half in earnest. 

Raman met them at the door, his hair freshly combed and his robe fresh and neat. He took Draco's hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and they went down the stairs together, meeting Sharona. She led them outside, and there stood Reuben, who was looking particularly grouchy in black. 

'We go to the Hall,' he said, and without a word started off towards a large building, with Draco, Harry, Raman and Sharona following hurriedly. The cheery sound of people talking issued from the building. Raman, still holding Draco's hand, was stumbling, not able to keep up. Draco picked him up and the little boy clung to him, pale hair floating in the wind. Draco felt odd. 

'Having maternal feelings, Malfoy?' Harry said, coming up behind him. 'Who'd have thought?' 

'Shut up, Harry,' said Draco, but, all the same, he _did_ feel odd. 

They opened the wooden double-doors, and entered the Hall; there was a large table in the centre, and a stage at the far end. Harry was pleasantly surprised. Lupin sat at the head of the table, and waved at them as he saw them come in. People were seated around the great table, and Reuben led them right up to Lupin, sitting down on his left. Harry, flushing slightly, sat on his right; Draco sat next to Harry, Raman taking a small stool next to Draco. Sharona disappeared amongst the people, talking to other villagers. 

Moql came up to them, dressed in white; she had done her hair up in a knot at the back of her head. Raman waved toothily to her, his eyes sparkling pure lavender. She took a seat next to Reuben. Draco thought she looked exceedingly pretty – the pale light of many lamps made her look almost like frost. She smiled at him, then at Harry, and said something to Reuben in a low voice. 

A bell was rung at the far end of the hall. The villagers obviously took it as a sign to eat; Harry, Draco and Lupin ate as well. The food was very good, and Harry supposed it must have taken ages to prepare. Moql looked on with an odd expression in her sparkling blue eyes as Raman talked shyly to Draco. Lupin was telling Harry an animated story about how he had caught and killed a Hag in Romania when faint strains of music reached their ears. A thin, gangly young man had come onto the stage and was playing something that looked very much like a guitar. His singing was terrible. Draco made a face at Harry, and was surprised to see Moql making one back at him. 

'There's going to be entertainment?' 

'Not really, just a few people who want to perform.' 

'How do you like the village so far, Harry?' asked Lupin. 

'It's very nice, Professor,' said Harry, swallowing a pickle. 'The people have been very kind to us.' 

'I'm surprised, Reuben,' said Lupin, grinning at the brown-haired man, who returned a half-grin, half-scowl. 

Throughout the dinner speeches were made, songs were played – there was even a group of young girls who had gone through an Irish dance, shy smiles on their faces. Raman had applauded them enthusiastically, his childish hands beating together as though they had only just learnt how to clap. 

Lupin stood up as they finished, Reuben clapping his hands together for silence. Raman's curly head rested in his arms on the table. Harry's former professor cleared his throat, looking out at the small but enthusiastic gathering, and began, 'I want to thank you all for coming here tonight, and I am very glad to be home.' 

There was cheering at this, and again Draco wondered why they depended on him so much. 

'I would like to say that our newcomers are former students of mine, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.' 

Heads craned to look at the two boys, who were both feeling uncomfortable. 

'I hope that you will help to make their short stay here comfortable. Thank you all very much –' 

Yet more cheering. 

'Good night.' 

And with that, the dinner was over, and they filtered out with the rest of the villagers. Moql and Reuben were talking to Lupin, and Harry and Draco trailed somewhat behind, Draco carrying a sleeping Raman. When they reached the house Lupin pulled Harry away behind a tree and Reuben disappeared with a grunt. Sharona had remained with some of her friends, helping to clear up. 

'You must be a very special person, Draco Malfoy,' said Moql, smiling. They stood alone outside the house. Draco began to feel odd. 

'Why do you say that?' 

'Look at Raman.' Moql gestured towards the sleeping child. 'He's never acted that way towards _anyone_, not even Master Remus.' 

'He's a nice kid,' said Draco, more out of embarrassment than anything else. 

'I think I would like to get to know you better, Draco Malfoy. I always make it a point to be friends with unusual people.' 

'Unusual in a good way?' 

'Of course. Even your looks – you're so different from your friend.' She looked at Raman again. Draco felt _very_ odd by this time, and it wasn't from what Harry termed 'maternal feelings'. She reached a hand up to run her fingers along a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. 'I think we might become good friends. Perhaps even more than that.' 

She smiled, letting her hand fall from his face, and set off up the path. 

Harry, leaning against the tree, asked, 'What did you want to talk to me about?' 

'Harry, I'm making arrangements for your stay to be as comfortable as possible because you will not be here long.' 

'I – I won't?' 

'It's not safe, Harry.' 

'The villagers would –?' Harry was bewildered. Wasn't Professor Lupin glad to see him at all? Didn't he _want_ him to stay? 

'No, Harry.' Lupin gave a sigh. 'They wouldn't – but the moon will be full soon.' The expression on his lined face told Harry all he needed to know. Harry drew a breath slowly. 

'They can't be…' 

'They are.' 

'Even Moql? And Raman?' 

'Raman was bitten very recently,' said Lupin. 'They had to take him in as a villager as well. This community is for the queer ones, Harry – that's why I belong here. And that's why you're not safe. I worry for you.' Suddenly he looked very tired. 'I will explain it to you tomorrow, Harry. Goodnight for now.' He turned to go, but remembered something, and turned back. 'Harry?' 

'Yeah?' 

'I don't want Draco hearing any of this - you know his attitude. Goodnight, Harry.' He gave Harry a wan smile and took off up the path. 

'…Moql seems like a nice girl,' said Draco sleepily as he settled down on the rug for the second time. He had absolutely no idea why Harry was leaning down and giving him that look. 

'Draco,' he said. 'Do you trust Lupin? I mean, because he's a werewolf?' 

Draco's face hardened, even through the mask of sleep. 'No, Harry,' he said shortly. 'I don't trust werewolves.'

And as he shut his eyes he had no idea why Harry looked as though Snape had started handing out sweets.

A/N : Thanks to PikaCheeka, netshark, Person, Franimal, Lizzy, Harry's Crush, Jyfae, Cassandra Claire, Aziraphale, Me! a, WolfieTwin 1 and rave for reviewing! Please review again if you want the next part sooner. I have a lot of holiday homework. Thanks very much, guys, for giving me so many thoughtful reviews.


	4. who are YOU?

Silent Night - Part III

- Sherry

A/N : Part three! I write so much faster when I'm having exams - I'm having crucial mid-terms and I doonn't caaaare... Anyone heard the song 'Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)'? The title might be a little off (I can't really remember it), but I know that is one great song. Taylor sounds really good... ::ducks again::

Explanation : Clips of 'Little Saint Nick'. You get the idea. ::starts to sing 'She's candy apple red...' and gets a kick from her little sister::

Dedication : To Ashvin. She knows why... :) And also to Alexa, for posting a new fic... I love it! You go, Alexa!

Disclaimer : All of them belong to the lady except Muldoon and the clock. The clock, I'm afraid, really exists, or actually its second hand does. It's my own bedroom clock, it looks different though, and I'd never _dream_ of pitching it through the window...

'Where _am_ I?' Ron complained as he looked around the room. A small, rather shabby little place, really. A few rooms, and a strangely familiar suitcase thrown carelessly onto a sofa. Ron racked his brains trying to recall where he had seen the suitcase before.

A door opened and a man came out, twirling Ron's wand in his fingers. Ron's eyes narrowed as he noticed who it was - Muldoon! There was no mistaking the wispy dark hair and those grey eyes that Hermione loved... Hermione! She was still in Knockturn Alley!

'Hello, Ron,' the man said, sounding infinitely amused. 'Are you enjoying your stay?'

'Where am I?' Ron asked through gritted teeth. 'Where's Hermione? And what are you doing with my wand? I thought I could trust you!' Muldoon laughed as though he found this very funny.

'You _can_ trust me. This is in the interest of the League or whatever-you-call-it - but if I asked you to come alone, you'd send Hit Wizards to send me to Azkaban before I could say _Crucio_.' He laughed at Ron's expression. 'Use your loaf, Weasley. Who else do you know who has a heavy sentence hanging over his head?'

'It can't be,' said Ron, his face pale. 'You're not - you can't possibly -'

Muldoon merely smirked and stalked into another room, shutting the door behind him. Ron sank into a pile of cushions stacked up on the end of the sofa. _What am I doing here_? his mind howled at him. Ron Weasley had no answer to that. As Muldoon came out, this time with Harry, his last coherent thought was that he would never be able to close his mouth. Ever.

'Ron? _Ron_?' Hermione wailed, staring desolate around Knockturn Alley. The silver line on the map was getting brighter. She was alone, unprotected but for her sharp mind and her wand.

'Ron!' she wailed, but there was no reply. Hermione steeled herself and crept towards the glimmer of light in the darkness. Her feet made no noise as she advanced, her hand shaking. She pointed her wand at it - and it disappeared.

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the white piece of paper that fluttered down in front of her.

_Come alone, Granger._

Grabbing the note that had been so carelessly flung to the winds, Hermione studied it, her face a study of anger and fear and worry and most of all... a strange feeling of empathy. _Come alone, Granger._ What the hell was that supposed to mean? Her hair whipped round her face and stung her cheeks. Her brows lowered. Turning the paper over slowly, she read:

_23, Brimstone Street, Little Whinging._

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she gazed at the little white piece of paper that she held gingerly in her hand. Then she looked at the map.

The silver line was still moving.

It was probably very dangerous to pursue this alone, and wondering what had happened to Ron -! No, the best thing to do would be to go back, report it, and then visit 23 Brimstone Street, Little Whinging. Wait a minute. Wasn't that - wasn't that... Hermione couldn't put her finger on it what with her brain spinning and mind whirling, but she had the strangest feeling about that address. She had seen it before somewhere.

Seconds later she had Apparated back to her freezing office. This time there was no mug on the table, and Hermione sat down with a shiver and picked up her Orb. She tapped it twice and uttered, 'Minerva'. The Orb began to glow softly, and then a voice filled the room: 'Hermione?'

'Yes, Professor McGonagall, it's me,' she said, her voice slightly choky.

'It's been a while.' There was affection in her professor's voice. 'I haven't seen you since you've been promoted.'

'Yes.' Hermione permitted herself a smile. 'But - but now Ron is missing.' She told her entire story, up till the part about the note; that she left out because she did not want her professor going to see it. She wanted to go alone. She could tell by the slight hiss in McGonagall's voice that she was a little riled.

'We'll do everything we can,' she said. 'Where was this?'

'Knockturn Alley. Could you send someone to investigate?'

'Of course. Goodbye, my dear.'

And with that, McGonagall's voice was gone. Hermione slumped in her chair with a small sigh. Perhaps things would look brighter after she'd relaxed, read a book. Then she'd have to get ready to Apparate to 23 Brimstone Road... and arm herself suitably. Perhaps it was Malfoy who was holding Ron. It was foolish, very foolish to go alone... but she had had experience in this field, when you brought someone with you the kidnapper usually killed the hostage. It had almost happened, indeed, with Nott.

The book didn't seem to be comforting her at all; she rested her head on her arms and groaned. Who had taken Ron? She had a feeling this entire thing would be a large mess. If it was Malfoy she would rip his throat out.

'_Ron_!' There was no mistaking the surprise in Harry's voice; he evidently had no idea of what was going on. Harry turned and stared at Muldoon. 'Muldoon? What's going on?'

Muldoon let go of him with a snide grin and turned to Ron. 'Yes, this _is_ the real Weasley,' he said. 'Ron Weasley. Came to Knockturn Alley for no particular reason, and got himself spirited away...'

'You were using Dark Magic!' Ron shouted, the tips of his ears flaming red; he was desperately angry with himself for being so stupid. 'I came to look for you! We _trusted_ you! And where's Hermione?'

'Tsk, tsk, tsk - you _are_ repetitive, aren't you?' Muldoon said in a rather blasé tone. 'Firstly, I do not use Dark Magic - any more. And second, I do not _know_ where your bl- excuse me - precious Hermione is. Third, I do not care. Finally, you _can_ trust me.' He laughed shortly. 'Perhaps you don't _think_ so... but I'm all for your blasted League, although not in such a conventional way.'

'Shut up,' Ron said fiercely. 'That means there are other dark forces at work in Knockturn Alley! And... and Hermione is still there!' His freckles stood out sharply against the paleness of his skin. 'If _anything_ hurts her, you'll - you'll...'

'Don't worry, Weasley,' Muldoon said, lazily brushing his dark hair back. 'She's fine. That must have been Nagini... She's getting rather old...'

'_Who_?'

'Never mind...' Muldoon heaved a sigh. 'Don't worry. She'll be joining us very soon. Just a matter of a cup of tea and perhaps a few biscuits... if you don't mind, Potter... and then we'll be seeing your precious Hermione again. Touching really, the way I see it...'

'We were supposed to go to Ottery St. Catchpole today!' Harry yelled, suddenly finding his voice. 'And - and - you -'

'Does it take you _that_ long to catch on, Potter?' Muldoon said boredly. 'Yes, we were supposed to, but what does it matter? You'd only have found beansprouts in Ottery St. Catchpole. Now let's go in for some tea, shall we?' He gripped Harry's shoulders and steered him towards the little kitchen. 'We want it to be perfect, don't we, when she arrives? Because the look that's sure to be on her face is worth millions to see...' With a grin, he pushed Harry into a seat, waited for Ron to follow suit, and then began to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Hermione had had an idea. She badly needed an idea - going alone into _that_ place was not a good one. She needed someone to go, someone the kidnapper might not hate so badly. Someone who was discreet and a little less fired up.

Muldoon.

Thankfully she had got through to his apartment, and he had at once agreed to come. Hermione clutched her wand with a small sigh. The enchantment she had put on herself for protection was making her a little jumpy - it always had. There was a knock on the door and Hermione opened it, finding herself face to face with Muldoon. He looked as though he had just got out of bed - his hair was rumpled and his collar was very crooked. Hermione straightened it for him and patted fretfully at his hair. 'Thank you so much for coming,' she told him as they moved to the centre of the room to Apparate - when they both had the spell of protection on them they needed a clear space so that the extra aura didn't knock things about.

He didn't say anything, so they both Apparated at the same time, Muldoon inadvertently knocking down a vase on the table.

'Is this it?' Hermione said a moment later, staring up at the little house.

'Maybe,' Muldoon said shortly as he always did, then walked up and knocked on the door.

It was then that Muldoon got the biggest surprise of his life. The door opened slowly and casually but a little too fast; he got the impression that the person inside had been waiting for them all along. And then the person put his head round the door. The person. A person with sleek dark hair and grey eyes and pale skin.

It was himself staring at him.

'Hello, Muldoon,' said the other Muldoon, a smirk that was unaccustomed to forming on that smooth face gracing it. 'Do come in, we've been waiting for you.'

A/N : 'She'd rock a toboggan on a four speed stick...' ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! Ahem... review? Please? ::gets down on knees::


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